


Dangerous Games

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Japanese Rope Bondage, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing too expensive or over the top, except for condoms, lube, and two extensive lengths of lovely silk rope. Hannibal had held it up beside Greg as if checking what the colors would do to his skin. A man who appreciated aesthetics. Greg could go with that, and so he had just smiled prettily at the cashier while Hannibal paid for things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Games

Sometimes, all Greg wanted was not to be in charge of himself.

He knew it could be dangerous, that sometimes he did things that weren't exactly smart. The thing of it was, he'd tried to do it the smart way. He'd had a _relationship_ , and that had just gone to hell in a hand-basket, and honestly? It was a hell of a lot easier just to go out looking to get laid.

Turn the dial up to ten, overdo his personality, and see what he could pull. The key to what he was going to end up with hinged on what kind of bar he went to, and Vegas had enough of them. It had been a while, but he still knew how to find the good places and he knew how to dress for attention. Hair gold-tipped and standing on end, jeans that were practically welded onto his ass, big black leather belt, stupid and utterly useless straps in all sorts of interesting places... well, useless until he took them off, anyway, and that was pretty good for Greg.

He liked the taking off part of the night, and he wasn't even on call, so he could let himself have a little fun. If anybody called, he could conveniently claim that he'd been out drinking with friends and get a one-time pass on things. It wasn't like it happened often, anyway.

Generally, he was left alone, and it was nice. He got himself a stupidly fancy martini, and waited to see what would come up and if it passed muster.

The first pass anyone tried made him think of Lady Heather a little too much. It wasn't that she wasn't supremely hot and very definitely a woman with a great eye for the kind of kink he wanted tonight, but the lovely lady seemed a little more like she was trying too hard. She might look like the good lady, but she wasn't inclined in quite the same direction as Lady Heather. Greg was definitely in need of someone with a little more... oomph.

Oomph was good, better than just pretty. He took another sip of his drink, and let it idle down his throat. The second one was male, graceful, and a lot better dressed than Greg expected. It was like he'd stopped on the way back from a better event than the bar, and he could damn sure appreciate that.

"Hi." Because that was always a pretty good place to start in his opinion.

His eyes drifted over Greg -- brown, a funny shade that caught Greg's attention, but he was doing a whole look over of the guy, and it was a nice package. He was just a little tanned and well built, and smiling at Greg when he looked up again. "Hello."

Yeah. Very nice, and he leaned in, offering the guy a smile –- one hell of a great smile, too, and Greg knew it. "Have a seat," he invited, leaning back in his chair and stretching himself out to show off... well. All of him, more or less.

"Thank you, I will." He smiled more broadly at Greg as he sat down. "Are you alone tonight?"

Might as well confess. "I'm alone most nights, but I work a lot. One of these days, I'll have to give in and start dating again, but that just means I'm available to spend time with you tonight."

"I see that you have your boilerplate down." He was smiling with his eyes by the time he took a sip. "Fend them off and invite them in, with the same breath."

He couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, well. Consider it being up front about the facts of things. One of these days, I figure I'll meet someone who makes me change my tune."

"Unfortunately, I'm a tourist. Extra good odds for you, mister...?" He had a mischievous glint to his eyes that was perfectly charming.

"Sanders. Greg Sanders." It felt a little silly, very Bond-ish, but it was fun nonetheless. "Nice to meet you, mister...?"

"Hannibal Lecter." He offered Greg his hand, having passed his drink to his left one.

Greg laughed. He couldn't help it. "I hope I'm not insulting you, but I have to say... I'm pretty glad it's your name and not mine. Sounds like something out of a Gothic novel." Or a particularly gruesome horror novel.

His smile pulled to the side a little, curling more.   The touch of his hand as Greg shook it was easy, lingering, which wasn't the crush response he expected after insulting a guy's name. "I'm Lithuanian. It's an old family name."

Wow. Yeah, that was.. really one hell of a turn-on. "And from the looks of things, it must be a very attractive family."

"Yes, and I suspect yours must be as well." He quirked an eyebrow at Greg, and took a sip of his own drink. "So what are you looking for tonight?"

Leaning back carefully, Greg drew attention to the vast number of buckles and leather straps. "I'm pretty sure you can take a fair guess." And if not, then he was pretty sure he would take what he could get. The man was stupidly attractive.

Greg could almost feel his eyes on him, sliding from Greg's chin down to the straps and the buckles. "I can do better than that. It's a little gaudy."

Perfect.

"That sounds like a fantastic offer. I was getting sick of the music, anyway." It wasn't as loud as the places he usually went, but he could do without it.

The man tilted his head a little, and looked up toward the speaker. "I can at least promise you better music. Come, I have a room in the Bellagio."

Excellent. Greg stood, grinning. "I'm right behind you." This was going to be good.

* * *

They'd had to make a pit stop of sorts, and Greg appreciated the entertainment value of that. There was just something about a man that elegant perusing the contents of a porn store that had a great deal of attraction.

He'd looked out of place, but he'd moved through it with a predatory purpose. Nothing too expensive or over the top, except for condoms, lube, and two extensive lengths of lovely silk rope. Hannibal had held it up beside Greg as if checking what the colors would do to his skin. A man who appreciated aesthetics. Greg could go with that, and so he had just smiled prettily at the cashier while Hannibal paid for things.

Clearly he'd made a damned good choice for the evening.

The room at the Bellagio certainly implied a lot of interesting things, and Greg peered around with curiosity. It wasn't the kind of room he usually saw without someone dead in it. "Wow."

"I was the keynote speaker at the APA conference that started today. It felt a shame to waste the upgraded room on just myself." He set the bag of goodies down on a side table, smiling at Greg in an easy jovial way that made Greg just relax.

"So," he drawled. "Should I just take everything off here and now or do you prefer unwrapping your packages?"

His fingers alighted on Greg's shoulders, and he leaned in for a brief hard kiss that felt like a claiming. "I prefer to both unwrap and then re-wrap you. Are you familiar with Shibari?"

Ohh. That was interesting. "Japanese rope bondage? More or less?" Yeah. "Sounds fantastic, so long as shoukushu-goukan doesn't come up, I think we're good." And then some. Greg didn't mind being tied up (or down), but octopi were a little much for him.

"No tentacles." Just hands, sliding down from his shoulders to his arms, as if he were testing Greg's muscle tension before he moved his hands to the edge of Greg's t-shirt. "Do you have a safe word?"

"Yeah." Greg licked his upper lip and then smiled. "It'd be stupid to let someone tie you up without one, and it's hard to mistake Cozumel for your standard sex word." He'd never bothered with one for slow down, but maybe he should think about that if he planned to keep playing with strangers.

"And if you wish to ease up, but not stop?" His hands continued their slow linger at Greg's waist, almost teasing as he started to unbuckle his belt.

Yeah. He hadn't needed one of these in a long time. Then again, he hadn't played with anybody since Gil, and he'd clearly trusted him way too fucking much. His slow down word was kind of stupid but... "Chicken Little."

"Ah, the sky is falling. I have a friend who no doubt needs to use that in day to day life. Perhaps I will suggest it to him." He leaned in, pressing hot kisses to the edge of his jaw.

Greg felt his breath hitch, a shiver rippling down his spine, hair on his arms standing up in reaction. "Oh, that's..." Damn good.

Hannibal slid his fingers down to unzip Greg's pants, and he pushed him slowly back against the wall. He let it happen, shoulders pressing against the rough paper of the wall, let himself simply be passive and accept it. The shiver worked its way all the way up his body and then down again, because fuck, that. That was a hand, fingers, tracing over his cock, teasing him with the lightest of touches, and he breathed in deeply.

"The idea of you, wrapped perfectly in ropes, wanting and not yet satisfied..." He lingered, fingers slowly sliding down, tops of his thighs and then back up, inching down his pants.

"Oh, Christ." Even his voice shook, and Greg whimpered, knocking his head back against the wall just to keep himself from coming apart. "Oh. God."

"You're gorgeous. You try too hard to make yourself look attractive..." He kissed a line down Greg's neck.

Oh. That was a word stuck in his mind, because fuck. It was all fantastic, and he wanted nothing more than to give in and let that be the only word left to him. "Gotta stand out somehow. Please, that..."

"You like this?" It was half a suggestion and a good part a question. And the man leaned back to shrug out of his jacket.

God. That was... that was rough, because he hadn't wanted to lose that touch, hadn't wanted him to stop. "Yes." It sounded pretty fervent, but it had been a while, and he could only hope that things would move right along. The fact that he was going to get tied up was amazing, and the idea of being hard and wanton and tied into position was... yeah. There were no words.

It gave him room to move, though, to be moved from against the wall and to be walked back toward the bed with the other man shedding clothes behind himself as they walked. A coat and a vest and a shirt, and Jesus, he was a hairy chested dude, very au natural in a way Greg didn't see a lot of in Vegas.

He could definitely appreciate that; even more, he appreciated all of those layers, the way they came off bit by bit. It was like watching someone open a present just for him, and he was mesmerized.

It was a great looking picture, and the man knew it, hands lingering as he fully disrobed. "You should get comfortable."

Comfortable implied a lot of things, and so Greg grinned, couldn't help himself. "Do you have some kind of preference for comfortable?" Positions he liked or things he'd like to see. Didn't matter.

"Something you would like to endure for a while." He was smiling as he leaned in to lift Greg's chin for a kiss. His mouth was soft and slick, and then it turned hot, harder, and it was all Greg could do to keep himself together. There was no way to stop the whimpering, or the way that he leaned in to ask for more. Something he'd like to endure for a while was more kisses, more intensity, but he slid his fingers down to Greg's wrists like he was playing an instrument. "You're going to look lovely."

He was pretty sure that he'd feel fantastic, too. "Mmm, thank you." Definitely thank you, and he allowed himself to be shifted, pushed almost gently towards the bed.

Towards and then onto the bed, gentle but firm. The man didn't require force or violence, it was all there in the firmness that drove Greg to settle in the middle of the bed comfortably while Hannibal backtracked to get the rope.

He had a notion that this was going to be worth the effort and so he settled himself, kneeling carefully and shifting until he was comfortable. "So, I can get comfortable in a lot of positions. Got any kind of preference?"

"Some variant of kneeling. I'll make sure you're comfortable." Well, as much as one could be in scenes where the whole point was some level of discomfort.

Greg shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "Pretty okay like this, I think."

"Good." He lifted up a sapphire blue length of rope, and leaned in to kiss Greg again.

The first coil of the rope slid against his skin, and his breath hitched in response. God, it had been so long, too long, and he couldn't stop his shiver of reaction. This was so dangerous, because he didn't know the guy, but he needed this. He needed it so much.

It was slow and careful, an artful processes as he meticulously wound Greg's wrists together. The rope was silky soft, and the end went over his shoulder, binding his wrists loosely to his neck. That would tighten eventually, carefully, would come to be better supported by ropes on his arms and shoulders. Even knowing that, his heartbeat picked up a little at the possibility, the threat, the mere notion that his breath might somehow get involved or be stolen away from him.

Hannibal was smiling a calm, easy smile, almost breezy as he began calmly weaving in the next supporting pieces in a taupe shade of silk rope. "Shhh, your breathing isn't constricted."

"I know." Yeah, he knew. He did, but it still made him shiver at the thought. He licked his lips and swallowed, and remained still. That was definitely a game for someone he trusted and not for a random stranger.

He slid his fingers up beneath the ropes, smiling as he kissed the side of Greg's neck and took a pause for a moment. "Your body language briefly disagreed with you."

Greg tipped his head back and gave a shaky sigh. The lips didn't leave his throat, just traced down and to the outer edge of his shoulder. "Sometimes that happens."

"You have a very expressive body." He lightly scraped teeth against Greg's skin, and then continued weaving strands over Greg's chest, his back, his shoulders, upper arms, taking the pressure of Greg's wrists from his neck. It was a relief and a disappointment all at once, and yeah. He was going to need to give in and actually do the relationship thing eventually, because he sincerely missed the feel of someone's thumbs pressed against his jugular.

Greg Sanders: getting off on danger since way too long.

Every strand coiled perfectly, and he was feeling it now, feeling the restraint, feeling each limb lose the ability to do what he told it to do. That didn't do anything to calm his raging erection; if anything, it made him harder, and the kisses that fluttered over his skin certainly didn't do anything to stop that.

"Let's ease you onto your front," Hannibal whispered, murmured against his skin slowly, "and do something about your legs."

That would be great, and Greg let out a slow, heavy sigh when he was gently tipped over. The man's arms were amazingly strong, and it was a relief to find himself unable to move, at least the upper bits. His hands were bound, not tightly, but in a way that made it impossible to move, kept them in place. It was kind of amazing.

Those strong hands slid down his thigh, tracing the outside with idle fingers before squeezing one firmly, testing his muscle. "Lovely."

God. That was one word, but fucking amazing qualified as two, and the descriptor was utterly perfect. The touch mingled with the looping of the rope, and he could feel the press of an arm against his hip, the lower part of his back. "Mmmm."

"You carry a natural tension to your muscles." Idle observation, fingers feeling and wrapping his thighs with care into an open position, spread but not uncomfortably so.

"Mmhm." Yeah, that made sense. "I work a lot. Bad sitting positions, lots of... hmm." Lots of digging into strange places, not enough time for relaxing. Maybe he should get a masseuse.

He'd rather get laid.

The slow slide of fingers was relaxing, not quite a massage, because Greg was as hard as a rock and it wasn't actually legal for that to include the third leg and balls massage, which seemed to be on the plate as Hannibal carefully threaded rope between his legs.

Greg couldn't help wiggling in reaction, the feel of his dick, the wrap of the rope around his balls so easy, and all he could do was whine softly in the back of his throat. It felt fantastic, and it had been much too long. "Nnn, that's. Yeah."

"Good?" He was careful to stroke a hand down along Greg's ankle, testing his range of motion.

"Fantastic." Amazing, impressive, and he felt almost drunk with his inability to shift or move.

He could feel the man's body heat behind him, and then a warming slap landed against the outside of his hip. "You're a breathing work of art."

God, yes. "Yeah." Yes, and his heart was a steady thrum in his chest, and he couldn't move. Well, he could, but not easily, not conveniently, and it was like having his breath stolen away and like being able to breathe again all at the same time.

It was being pushed down into a space he'd missed and the caress of fingers behind his balls felt excellent, manicured nails tracing his asshole leisurely. "I will commit this to memory, I think."

Greg, too. "It's a shame we couldn't record it." Because he would love to see this again, love for this not to be the last time he was involved in this, and god.

"I will take it with your phone, then. So you have it to keep." Which was considerate for a stranger, but he was a psychiatrist, and apparently conscientious even when he had wrapped someone up like a very expensive gift box.   He reached into Greg's pants pocket, scooping them from the floor, and fished out his phone.

"Code's 0-5-7-3," Greg offered, his voice sounding a little muffled. Then again, he was awkwardly arranged, and it wasn't as though he could prevent it. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to prevent it because yeah. He wanted to remember this, wanted to see what he looked like, and that was...

He could hear tap tap tap, and then a click, and then another click, and then a third click before the man was kneeling on the bed again and resumed stroking Greg's hip, testing the ropes again. "It's been a while for you."

"Bad relationship last go. 's easier to do... this." This, and he sighed, shifting minutely in the bonds, feeling ever stroke, each caress, and wanting more.

He felt the slick press of lube against his ass, lazy, though, not insistent, and paired with a slow stroking of his balls, pulling at the edges of the rope. "I'm going to keep you like this until you're begging to come."

Oh, that probably wouldn't take much. He was going to do his best not to turn into some mewling quivering pile of flesh, was going to try and hold out. The fact that he was already whimpering wasn't exactly a good sign, but god, that felt great.

It felt like he was being dissected with careful hands, precise touches and strokes, hard and then nothing at all, leaving him aching and wanting. Helpless to move, even, helpless to do anything more than sigh and moan and writhe against the ropes that were holding him tight, caressing over his skin, making him infinitely more sensitive with every brush of knot and loop.

"Please, that's..." His voice sounded blurry, felt out of focus, and he shuddered with the pleasure of it, with the feel of a thumb slipping inside and then leaving him again.

"Please?" Goading, and Greg knew how to respond to the quiet prompting.

"Please." Yeah, and he managed to arch his back just a little, just enough, and gasped when another finger slid into him, silky smooth and deep.

Firm and promising of more. Greg wanted more, Greg wanted to be fucked senseless and put away tied up, but there wasn't anything he could do about what he wanted. He was all tied up with nowhere to go. That left him with a single option, whimpering and trying to get more of what he wanted, more touch, more anything, and god. It had been so long, and getting off by himself had nothing on this, nothing on the feel of hands on his body, rope on his skin, and oh fucking hell.

He was struggling not to overreact when the man finally thrust into him with hardly any warning except for the sudden presence of fingers on his hips. The sound he gave ached in his throat and his knees would have given way if not for the ropes holding them in place. "Oh. Oh, oh, oh fffff. Oh god."

The man fucking him made a quiet noise of pleasure and kept thrusting hard, pummeling Greg's ass with his hips hard. "That's it, let go..."

Let go, let loose, and he did, couldn't stop the sounds cracking from his throat or the shudders that broke though him. It was hard, hard enough that all he could do was moan and struggle against the ropes that held him in place, and it was. It was so fucking perfect.

All trussed up with nowhere to go except to be thrust into, while the other man finally took pity on him and started to stroke his dick, touching him, pushing him closer to an edge that he hadn't seen in so long that he couldn't remember it. Well, he could. He could, but it wasn't that time, it was something to shove to the back of his mind so that he could enjoy the fuck out of this, and then Hannibal moved, shifted, changed the angle of his thrusts, and it was kind of like seeing God when he moved that way. Lifted him up by the hips, still bound into position, and fucked him like he was a wheelbarrow and there was nothing to do but take it, fast fast fast, to fall into it leisurely. He didn't have any control over what was happening, didn't care that he didn't have any control. He wasn't here for that, he was here to give in to everything, and it was amazing and fantastic and his orgasm came out of nowhere, slamming into him in a way that took him completely by surprise.

Like a car accident, running away and over and through him. He cried out and the man kept thrusting, driving into him and Greg didn't care, just breathed and went slack in the ropes.

Fuuuck. Fuck fuck, because it kept going, and he was oversensitive and shivering, eyes closed. Christ, yes, yes, yes. Yes. Completely fucked out and done, and the man pulled back, moving slowly and letting his fingers idle against Greg's stomach as he settled him back on the bed.

The ropes were still wound around him, and those hands were working at them, not untying them entirely, but resettling them, slowly and with what was a clearly fantastic experience.

God, he was feeling amazingly lucky just then. Hannibal eased Greg's legs out slowly, shifted to roll him onto his back. "I thought you might want a rest."

Maybe, and that soft mouth was on him again, lips teasing and light and god. God, yes. "Hmmm, absolutely." And then some.

He was looking forward to finding out what else he could learn from the man who worked ropes so well.


End file.
